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A little too abstract, a little too wise, It is time for us to kiss the earth again, It is time to let the leaves rain from the skies, Let the rich life run to the roots again.

Robinson Jeffers

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Robinson Jeffers
Age: 75 †
Born: 1887
Born: January 10
Died: 1962
Died: January 20
Peace Activist
Poet
Writer
Pittsburg
Pennsylvania
Robinson Jeffers
John Robinson Jeffers
Running
Spirituality
Spirit
Kissing
Earth
Sky
Littles
Roots
Skies
Little
Rain
Gardening
Time
Wise
Kiss
Life
Rich
Abstract
Religion
Leaves

More quotes by Robinson Jeffers

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We might remember ... not to fear death it is the only way to be cleansed.
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Imagination, the traitor of the mind, has taken my solitude and slain it.
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We have to live like people in a web of knives, we mustn't reach out our hands or we get them gashed.
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Death's a fierce meadowlark: but to die having made / Something more equal to the centuries / Than muscle and bone, is mostly to shed weakness.
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Meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing republic.
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Know that however ugly the parts appear the whole remains beautiful... ... the wholeness of life and things, the divine beauty of the universe. Love that, not man Apart from that, or else you will share man's pitiful confusions, or drown in despair when his days darken.
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Only the drum is confident, it thinks the world has not changed
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The heads of strong old age are beautiful beyond all grace of youth.
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Nature knows that people are a tide that swells and in time will ebb, and all their works dissolve ... As for us: We must uncenter our minds from ourselves. We must unhumanize our views a little and become confident as the rock and ocean that we are made from.
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Does it matter whether you hate yourself? At least love your eyes that can see, your mind that can hear the music, the thunder of the wings.
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Corruption never has been compulsory when the cities lie at the monster's feet there are left the mountains.
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It seems to me that this whole alone is worthy of the deeper sort of love and that there is peace, freedom, I might say a kind of salvation, in turning one's affections outward toward this one God, rather than inwards on one's self, or on humanity, or on human imaginations and abstractions - the world of the spirits.
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The love of freedom has been the quality of Western man.
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They import and they consume reality.
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If you should look for this place after a handful of lifetimes: Perhaps of my planted forest a few May stand yet, dark-leaved Australians or the coast cypress, haggard With storm-drift but fire and the axe are devils. Look for foundations of sea-worn granite, my fingers had the art To make stone love stone, you will find some remnant.
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Oh heavy change. The world deteriorates like a rotting apple, worms and a skin.
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The greatest beauty is organic wholeness, the wholeness of life and things, the divine beauty of the universe.
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You making haste on decay: not blameworthy life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing republic.
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Humanity is the start of the race I say Humanity is the mould to break away from, the crust to break through, the coal to break into fire, The atom to be split.
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Seagulls . . . slim yachts of the element.
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